


Hunter's Moon

by walking_through_autumn



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Humour, M/M, Singer and Bodyguard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_through_autumn/pseuds/walking_through_autumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Kaneki is a singer in a well-known band, Amon is his designated bodyguard, and shenanigans ensue. </p>
<p>Eventual Amon/Kaneki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunter's Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This is insane because I know nothing about the music industry. This is fun because I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THE MUSIC INDUSTRY. 
> 
> In other words, this fic is written purely for fun and stress relief. And also because I like the idea of singer!Kaneki and bodyguard!Amon. There might be some plot. There might be some serious stuff. But mostly there will be Shenanigans and Embarrassment and Awkwardness.

Prologue

_You would have to be living under a rock to not have heard of **Unravel**. Within just a year of their debut, they have risen to fame despite stiff competition from **Aogiri** and **The 4 th Ward**. A band known for their dark music and haunting lyrics, **Unravel** has fans all over the world numbering in the hundreds of thousands, and they are sure to bring in more with the release of their highly anticipated third album, “Underground Murmurs”. We bring to you an exclusive interview with **Unravel** – find out what inspires them, what fans can expect from their newest album, and teasers about their upcoming Asia tour!_

-          Extract from “Music Box”, leading music magazine in Japan

.

It all started with Touka stalking up to him while he was drinking coffee and cringing at the interview on a complimentary copy of “Music Box”. Touka never really walked; she stalked, stomped, and in her rare good moods she took long, tiger-like strides. In any case, Kaneki wasn’t quite bothered, since Touka was being Touka, and he had more pressing concerns like how stupid he sounded in his answers to the interview questions. He wondered if this was why Touka had called him to the agency’s tiny meeting room when he was supposed to be having a rest day. Then she slapped several envelopes on the table with a much darker expression than usual.

Kaneki gazed at the envelopes, examined the look on her face, and flipped the magazine closed, placing it to one side. He took a sip of coffee to prepare himself and said, “I suppose they are not fan mail.”

“Moroneki,” Touka said, an uncharacteristic undertone of worry in her preferred endearment for Kaneki. Kaneki raised an eyebrow and picked up an envelope. “I thought they’ve stopped,” she said as he pulled out the letter from the envelope.

“Hmm,” Kaneki said, skimming the contents of the letter. It was quite childish, really, with phrases like “ _your songs suck_ ” and “ _I hate you_ ”, and a graphic description of how the writer wanted todig out Kaneki’s intestines and strangle him with them. He sighed, partly amused, partly worried because Touka looked like she wanted to grab someone’s throat and wring it, and he was the only one in close vicinity. “It’s the same death threats from last time, then?”

“More this time,” Touka affirmed, tossing another envelope at him. This one was at least more eloquent and started with a detailed, almost artistic fantasy of how the writer wanted to see _Unravel_ suffer, including them all kneeling in the street in nothing more than a pair of underwear during a snowstorm. It ended off with a list of ten ways the knife could be used to inflict grievous harm. Kaneki would have been impressed if he didn’t know that Touka was not the slightest bit amused by the entire matter.

“And there were a few with unidentified substances. Yoshimura sent those to the police,” she said, sifting through the envelopes and placing them in a sequence only she would know, perhaps in increasing order of the amount of harm the writers wanted to inflict on Kaneki and his band.

“Ah,” Kaneki said, less impressed with the thought that his managers had been at the receiving end of mysterious substances. He cracked his index finger.

“Bastards,” Touka said in agreement.

She let Kaneki read the next few in silence and helped herself to the pot of coffee and the magazine. There were some that promised harm to the other band members as well, but the majority was aimed at him. He wasn’t surprised, since he was the singer and the “ _dolce_ face of the band”, as Tsukiyama liked to say. After reading the letters (during which time Touka flipped through the interview and made funny faces), Kaneki looked at her and asked, “Is this all?”

“Moroneki,” Touka growled, which meant she didn’t know Kaneki could be this dense. Kaneki had the image of Yoshimura’s desk being entirely covered with letters and felt a sudden surge of guilt.

“Right,” Kaneki said, leaning back in his seat. He tapped his fingers on the table, surveying the letters with a frown, before he sighed and asked, “What did Yoshimura say about this?”

“Not a lot,” Touka said, keeping her eyes on the table.

Kaneki knew this tactic. He was a _master_ at this tactic. It was Touka’s way of trying to avoid an unpleasant task she had been entrusted with. “Touka…” Kaneki said.

She grimaced and fiddled with the magazine, worrying at the corner. “You’re already taking self-defense classes,” she muttered.

“True,” Kaneki said, wondering if that was going to be enough. From the look in Touka’s eyes it wasn’t.

“You have the Asia tour in less than three weeks.”

“True too.”

“Tickets are already sold out,” Touka said with a brief, pleased quirk of her lips.

“I take it the tour is not going to be cancelled then?” Kaneki asked. Unlike the last case of threatening letters, when they could just cancel the television appearances, a tour was a huge thing.

“Are you crazy?” Touka asked.

“Right, sorry. Go on.”

Touka took a long gulp of coffee before sighing. She warned, “You’re not going to like it.”

“Hmm.” Kaneki kept tapping his fingers on the table to the rhythm of “Underground Murmurs”. Touka’s eye twitched at the insistent tapping but, with restraint she didn’t usually have, she did not say anything about it. That worried Kaneki more than anything she had said previously. His tapping became faster.

“You’re going to have a bodyguard.”

Kaneki’s finger tapping stopped. Touka drained her coffee, looked at him with sympathy, and shook her head. “He starts work Monday,” she said, with the finality of a nail being driven into a coffin.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated :)


End file.
